


the same as it ever was

by Anonymous



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Childhood Heroes to Lovers, F/F, Getting Together, Rule 63, Women in the NHL
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:20:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29780199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: When Dylan is eleven, Johnny Tavares is drafted first overall to the NHL. She’s not the first woman to play in the league, but she’s the first one to be drafted. Dylan jumps on Ryan and screams when it happens, her hands shaking with excitement.“It’s not like she got drafted by the Leafs,” Ryan scowls.“It’s the NHL.” Dylan tells him instead, she can’t help smiling.
Relationships: Dylan Strome/John Tavares
Comments: 3
Kudos: 12
Collections: The Dylan Strome Celebration 2021





	the same as it ever was

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Stromesquad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stromesquad/gifts).



> to Ali, who writes the best prompts, which instead of picking one, I mashed up into one weird concept. I hope you like this.
> 
> (some content warnings at the end)

When Dylan is eleven, Johnny Tavares is drafted first overall to the NHL. She’s not the first woman to play in the league, but she’s the first one to be drafted. And that might be the most azmaxing thing Dylan can remember witnessing. She jumps on Ryan and screams when it happens, her hands almost shaking with excitement.

“It’s not like she got drafted by the Leafs,” Ryan scowls. 

“It’s the NHL!" Dylan wants to tell him he doesn't get it, that it's a miracle and history being made, and she wants to shout at him for being a stupid boy who doesn't get it, but she can’t help smiling. 

“That’s gonna be you three in a few years,” their mom says and Dylan can’t focus on that now, can’t think about what that means for her. She turns to Ryan and starts reciting all the stats she knows about Johnny until he gets annoyed and tries to shut her up by tackling her to the floor. 

\-----

Dylan knows she’s different because she’s a girl who plays hockey. That’s a given, a universal fact that can not be changed, and by this mature age of sixteen Dylan isn't interested in changing anyway. And then she discovers she’s different in other ways too. 

Mikey kisses her that summer and it's like entire wold moves off its axis. One moment they’re stumbling back into her room, laughing and teasing and the next he’s looming above her on her bed, his mouth against hers, impossibly wet and scary. He’s her best friend, she loves him. She still hates how his hands feel under her shirt. 

It’s not a lot, definitely way less than other girls are doing. But she feels wrong long after Mikey has left. 

She comes out to him the next day, sitting on his bed this time around, tears streaming down her face. It’s miserable, but at least Mikey cries with her. 

\-----

There’s the poster above Dylan’s bed. JT is in her Hockey Canada uniform, celebrating a goal, a huge, blinding smile on her face and her eyes shining. Dylan loves it because it manages to communicate everything she wants for herself, not being able to articulate it except looking at JT's face and longing for exactly that. That feeling, hockey, and winning, and being true to yourself as you do it. 

But there's also something about that makes it seem special, like a side of JT someone has immortalized, a moment of who she really is. She’s certainly very different in interviews - serious and measured, never too emotional, never not in control. Dylan envies that too, always feels like she’s a mess, feeling too much and never focused enough, always overthinking everything around her. 

“You don’t need to be anyone else. You’re Dylan Strome,” Connor tells her, when Dylan tries to explain it to him, the two of them jammed into a corner of the couch at Brownie’s billets. 

She’s a little drunk and Connor is too, probably, his head resting on Dylan’s shoulder. 

“That’s the problem,” Dylan tells him. She wants to run her hand through his hair, but the team is there and it would probably be weird. “I don’t think I can get there being me.” 

Connor will definitely get there, she’s sure of it, sooner than any of them. It’s too easy to imagine him a year or two from now, winning one gold medal after another. Winning cups. He’s going to be the star on any team he’s on, that way he has always been, and Dylan is going to be remembered as the girl who got to play with him in Juniors. 

She tries to draw the line between Erie and Toronto on Connor's shoulder. Erie, where they are, and Toronto, where Dylan's childhood room with the poster of JT on the wall is. Then draws another sharp line down from Toronto to Long Island, where JT herself probably is, where Ryan will soon play.

\-----

The year before the draft is especially crazy. She always knew she wasn't the only one, but now wherever someone mentions Dylan, they mention Mitch Marner in the same breath. Two women projected to be picked in the top ten, maybe even top five, and they're as different as two people can be, but the media just calls them the 2015 girls, so of course the NHL follows suit, pairing them for every possible PR opportunity. 

In a way it’s nothing new. They’ve always been compared to each other; Mitch with her friendly, bubbly personality, her soft hair and pretty face, her speed and talent and the way she seems like the nicest, sweetest girl ever until she gets out on the ice.

Then there was Dylan, who speaks too fast, too sharply, who is taller than most boys, even in a group of hockey players. Dylan’s almost certain she’s going to be drafted higher than Mitch, if the Yotes do as they’ve promised, but Mitch is the type female NHL player people will want to see on magazine covers. She’s like JT that way, both of them polished and practiced in a way Dylan will never manage to be. 

Dylan doesn't know how she and Mitch became friends, despite the way Dylan couldn't stand Mitch at all in the begining, despite the whole Connor and Mitch thing. But they are, she's one of Dylan's closest friends. And when the year is almost over, when it's minutes before the draft and Dylan knows her life is going to be different tomorrow, it's Mitch and Connor she wants with her. She feels almost breathless with it, doesn’t know how to deal with how overwhelming it is, so she just hugs Mitch and Connor, convinces them to sing something stupid, before everything changes forever. 

\-----

When she finlly gets to meet her, JT is... She's just not what Dylan expected her to be. Not that Dylan expected something specific, but it's still jarring to suddenly see JT wearing sweats and a worn, loose tank, stray hair strands falling out of the bun at the back of her head, for all that she's in her own kitchen. 

It’s quiet, the sounds of the AC droning out the way Dylan probably hitches her breath when JT walks into the room. She yawns and shuffles to the fridge without noticing Dylan is even there. 

Dylan looks at Ryan, helpless. 

“Don’t meet your heroes, kid,” Ryan laughs. 

JT turns around then, her eyes landing on Dylan a few agonising moment later. “Um, hi,” she says, turning to look quizzically at Ryan.

“This is Dylan,” Ryan says, rolling his eyes. “My kid sister. The one I told will be staying over for a few weeks. You know, I’ve told you all about Dylan. She has a poster of you in her bedroom.” 

Dylan punches him in the arm, because he’s an idiot. Maybe JT won't remember this in her caffeine-deficient state and the way Dylan's almost entire face must be red now won't even matter. It's not. It's not like it matters what JT thinks about Dylan. 

“I thought-” JT says, then frowns. “I’m going to make my coffee now.”

\-----

“The 2015 girls,” JT says, passing a water bottle to Dylan. “You must hate it.”

Dylan shrugs. JT says it like it’s nothing, almost offhandedly, her smile easy and friendly. But it’s the first time in the last ten days JT’s acknowledges Dylan is a hockey player, that she got drafted to the league JT is playing in, that she’s anything other than Ryan’s younger sister. 

“Did you hate being the first?” She asks instead. 

JT takes a sip from her own bottle, her eyes looking at Dylan, as if she’s considering her. Dylan isn’t going to make it weird by examining the way JT’s shoulders move when she shrugs. She just isn't. They’re both sweaty and disgusting and that’s a familiar place to be. Safe. 

“Yeah, but it was worth it,” JT says finally. 

“Yeah,” Dylan echoes. 

\-----

It’s a little easier after that, JT seems more approachable, more willing to spend time with Dylan alone, the two of them going for early morning runs outside before it gets too hot while Ryan is still being lazy in bed. 

Dylan would probably sleep in as well, the Stromes are not early risers as a whole, but being around JT makes her push herself. Makes her want to be sharper, better, more mature. 

“You’re so weird,” Ryan snickers at her. “You follow her like a lovesick puppy, Dyl.”

“Fuck off,” she says, but she can feel herself blushing anyway. 

“No, it’s cute,” Ryan continues teasing. “All this hero worship is very adorable.”

“Like you didn’t worship her,” Dylan rolls her eyes. JT was Dylan’s favorite for obvious reasons, but Ryan has come back from his very first training camp in awe, full of stories of how great and talented JT is, how nice and down to earth she is, how amazing it is to see her lead the team. 

“Yeah, but I got over it,” Ryan points a finger at her. “You got worse.”

\-----

“The guys on your team are cool?” JT asks her over coffee one morning. "About- You know."

“Yeah,” Dylan says, because the Otters are family. They’re hers. Sometimes it feels like she’s Wendy and Connor is Peter and the rest of the team are just lost boys, looking up to the twoof them, willing to follow them blindly anywhere they'd say. “They’re team.” 

“Team means different things in different places,” JT tells her, looking pensive.

“They're a good bunch,” Dylan shrugs. “It’s just lonely sometimes.”

“Yeah,” JT nods, her hair framing her face in a perfect heart shape “I feel you.”

\-----

They’re sitting on a beach, when JT says it, the sun blaring in their face. Dylan didn’t pack a bathing suit, but JT gave her one, claiming they’re the same size, and so Dylan is sitting on a towel, in a crowded beach in JT's bathing suit on a Saturday when JT says it. 

“I’m not sure if it’s what I thought it would be.”

Ryan has wandered off, probably hitting on some girls out of reach from the judging looks his captain or his sister would definitely be sending his way if they knew.

“What do you mean?” Dylan asks.

“I thought I’d be really happy by now,” JT says simply. She doesn’t sound sad, but there’s something about the way she says it, quiet and wistful that breaks Dylan’s heart anyway. 

“I’m sorry,” Dylan says, because she doesn’t know what else to say. She feels small and young next to JT, who’s done so much already, who has an Olympic gold medal and is the captain of an NHL team, who is more talented than Dylan can ever dream of being. 

Dylan slides her palm over JT’s, holds JT's hand in both of hers, squeezing lightly as they sit there in silence.

\-----

JT’s hand on her cheek is soft, fer fingers dancing on Dylan’s skin. Dylan doesn’t know what to do, feels a helpless pull towards JT, leans in to be kissed again, almost desperate for it, but JT pulls away a little, smiling.

Dylan moans, frustrated, and JT laughs, just a little, rubs her fingers over Dylan’s temples.

“Easy,” she says. And Dylan is, so easy for her.

“JT,” she breathes, her own hands are clutched in JT’s shirt, she doesn’t know what to say, what to do. How to explain she needs this. 

“Whatever you want,” JT says, just an inch from her mouth and Dylan makes another helpless sound just before JT’s mouth meets hers.

It doesn’t take long for JT to start pulling at Dylan’s shirt, and Dylan goes with it easily. Desperate, and nervous and blindsided by how much she wants this. JT’s hands on her, in her, touching and pulling and giving Dylan everything she needs. 

“I’ve been thinking about this for weeks,” JT tells her, one clever finger drawing some unknown shape over Dylan’s breasts. 

Dylan wanted this for years, probably, but she doesn’t say it, lets herself be bold and pull JT for another kiss instead.

\-----

They sneak around as much as possible. It’s two weeks of stolen kisses in the kitchen, of JT quietly opening the guestroom door and sliding into Dylan’s bed at night, of talking about hockey and their teams and their families as they get up early for a run to avoid having Ryan join them. 

“You’re going to be great,” JT tells her when they hug goodbye. “Show those boys in Arizona how it’s really done.” 

\-----

Dylan texts JT when she gets back home. Then two days later. Then another week later. She sends her DM on Instagram and then deletes her number altogether. It burns, but she can deal with it. 

She didn’t expect to be in Erie for another yer. Doesn’t expect to do World Juniors again. Somehow it ends up being one of the better hockey years in her life, if she ignores all the things she could’ve been doing instead.

\-----

JT comes over a few days after Ryan gets traded. It’s been bitter-sweet summer - Dylan’s hair is still bleached, and she is considering just cutting it off. 

“Hey, Dylan,” JT says. “Congrats on the Mem cup. I was going to text you.”

JT is smiling, her hair freshly cut and barely reaching her shoulders now. She’s fucking Johnny Tavares. She’s also the same person who got Dylan to fall in love with her and then ghosted her like an asshole a year ago. 

“Thanks,” Dylan shrugs instead and decides to go check if Mikey is home. 

\-----

Arizona is nothing like she thought it would be. But at least when no ones cares about hockey, they also don’t care when NHL bust hockey players hang out in lesbian bars. Dylan maybe overindulges. 

\-----

“This is so awkward,” Dylan complains, smoothing the fabric of her skirt nervously. Her nails are painted, and it makes her fingers feel weird, heavy. Like she’s supposed to do something with them. Something girly. 

Dressing this way was a mistake. Agreeing to go to JT’s stupid party was a mistake. Everything, absolutely every single decision Dylan has ever made and has led her here had been a mistake. A girls-only NHLers weekend at JT’s lake house even sounds like a terrible idea Dylan should never have agreed to, because beyond the JT of it all Dylan doesn’t even qualify. 

“Stop being weird,” Mitch tells her with the air of someone who obviously never had to deal with the utmost humiliation of being too tall, too awkward, and just too everything. “I can feel you freaking out.”

“Why am I doing this,” Dylan whines. “This was the worst idea.” 

Mitch looks at her sideways, mostly keeping her eyes on the road. “Stop being so dramatic, it’s just JT.” 

“So how’s Auston?” Dylan asks, because she’s not above playing dirty. 

\-----

“She’s cute,” JT says, tilting her head at Mitch. They’ve barely arrived an hour ago, but Mitch is already out on the deck, dancing with Tyler Seguin of all people. JT seems uncomfortable around her. “Are you -” 

“What?” Dylan blinks. “No- We’re- Definitely not. Mitchy’s straight.” 

“And you’re not?” JT asks and Dylan just stares at her. There’s pretending nothing happened between them and there’s whatever this is. JT laughs. “Sorry, sorry. You know how it is.” 

Dylan certainly doesn’t know how it is. 

“I’m happy you came,” JT says then, her palm brushing almost casually over Dylan’s arm. Dylan wishes she could hate her.

\-----

“Never have I ever hooked up with a goalie,” Jo says, grinning over her wine glass. She’s the only one of the five of them who isn’t a Toronto native, but it doesn’t see to bother her. JT takes a discrete sip and Mitch does as well, rolling her eyes. 

“There’s a story there,” Tyler says, drunkenly pointing at Mitch and grinning. “We want details.” 

The five of them are spread around various sofas in JT’s living room, and the third bottle has just been opened. It’s been a nice afternoon, easy, Dylan can almost believe she can bare another two days of this.

Mitch shakes her head. “My turn now,” she bites her lip and Dylan knows immediately she’s in trouble. “Never have I ever hooked up with a friend of my brother’s.”

Dylan glares at her, begrudgingly raising her glass to take a long swing. She can feel JT’s eyes on her, and she knows her cheeks are turning red. 

“You’re the worst friend ever,” she says.

Mitch giggles, throwing her arms around Dylan, and then Tyler joins her, overbalancing Dylan and sending her laughing to the floor. 

\-----

“I remember you liked training in the mornings,” JT says, when Dylan opens her bedroom door the next morning.

JT’s dressed like she’s about to shoot an Adidas commercial instead of go train at her own basement. Dylan’s still in her pajamas and she hasn’t had time to brush her teeth yet. 

“Not really,” Dylan says, because she’s not eighteen anymore. 

“Oh?” JT says. 

Dylan sighs. “Did you really not know I was trying to impress you?” 

JT scoffs. “Dyl.”

“Don’t do that,” Dylan says. It’s early, and she’s had more wine than she should’ve the day before, and JT is still infuriatingly gorgeous and outside of Dylan’s league. Dylan is just so tired of not measuring up.

“I’m sorry,” JT says. That should be the end of it, only Dylan has been thinking about it for two years now, has been playing it back in her head and wondering if it would be different had she said something different, had she tried calling JT more, had she booked a flight to Long Island and just showed up- 

“I liked you,” she confesses. “I really did.”

“I know,” JT sighs. “But you were eighteen, Dylan. And I was supposed to be older and smarter, and it just didn’t make sense.”

“Why?” Dylan asks, because it made sense to her. It made sense to JT when she was with her. “It’s not even that big of an age difference-”

“You were my rookie’s baby sister,” JT says, her mouth flattened out into an unhappy line. “And I was kind of unhappy that year. It was messed up.” 

Dylan shakes her head. “It didn’t stop you.”

“It should’ve had.”

\-----

She wants to leave after that, but she doesn’t. Spends the day with Tyler and Jo on a hike instead while JT and Mitch stay back to go on the boat. 

The rest of the weekend is quiet, they avoid being alone and that’s all there is to it. Just women supporting women, or whatever it is Mitch wants them to print on cup and sell as merch.

“We’re a sisterhood because everyone else sucks,” Tyler tells the table at lunch the last day, adamant, and it should probably stop surprising Dylan now, how emotionally intelligent she is, considering. Well. Everything. 

It’s a little awkward when JT hugs her goodbye, just before Dylan and Mitch pack themselves back into Mitch’s car, she can’t help it.

She cries on the way back to Toronto, unable to control herself. Mitch stops the car and hugs her and hugs her and hugs her. 

\-----

 _Hi_ JT texts her two days after the weekend. Dylan doesn’t reply.

She learns about JT signing with the Leafs from Mitch, just a few hours before the news hit everyone. She doesn’t tell Ryan even though she probably should. Doesn’t text JT. 

_Dylan, can we please talk?_ JT sends her in the middle of August and Dylan must be some sort of masochist because she agrees.

\-----

“I can’t stop thinking about you,” JT says, the two of them hidden in a corner of some random bakery she chose.

“I know I was unfair to you. I know. I’m willing to make it up to you,” she continues, nodding solemnly.

“Please, Dylan, whatever you want,” she promises. 

Dylan still remembers how it felt to have JT in her arms, how she’s wrap herself around Dylan and rest hear head in Dylan’s lap. 

“You’ll need to tell people about us,” Dylan says, and JT’s eyes shine because she knows she’s won now. They both know she has. “I don’t want to do this if we hide.”

JT grins at her, triumphant, reaching her hand across the table to hold Dylan’s. “Why would I want to hide my beautiful, talented girlfriend?”

Dylan almost feels like crying, so she squeezes JT’s hand instead. Then excuses herself, so she can go wash the redness off from her eyes in the bathroom. 

JT finds her there a few minutes later, and before Dylan can say anything, JT’s mouth is on her, JT’s body flush against her front, pushing Dylan back against the sync. It’s a little too much, but it’s also so good, this frantic sudden need to discover every single detail about how JT tastes anew. 

“Fuck,” JT breathes out, her eyes are sparkling, staring at Dylan like she’s the best thing ever. It reminds Dylan of that stupid poster, probably still hanging over her desk in Mississauga, of all things. It’s a ridiculous thought, random and silly, and Dylan feels the laugh burst from her before she can realize she’s laughing into JT’s neck, her own hands circling JT. 

“What?” JT says, but she’s chuckling as well, running her hands through Dylan’s hair. 

“I’m just happy,” Dylan says. And it’s true.

\-----

“I somehow missed Mitch was this much of a mess,” is the first thing JT says two weeks into training camp and Dylan laughs her heart out. 

“I know,” she giggles.

“There are at least three grown men on this team looking at her with sad puppy eyes at any given moment,” JT says, sounding awed. “It’s so bad.” 

“Babe,” Dylan says, and it’s so easy, feels so good. Feels even better when JT makes a please sound on the other side of the line. “You have no idea.” 

\-----

Dylan is pretty sure Ryan attempted a shovel talk, but neither JT not Ryan will confirm.

\-----

Maybe it shouldn’t be a shock when Dylan gets traded, but it still is.

She calls her mom. Then she calls Brinksy. And then she call JT back.

“Baby,” JT says, as soon as the line connects, and Dylan sniffles a little, because she might have cried out all her sadness during the call with her mom, but hearing JT’s voice makes it somehow worse. 

“It sucks,” Dylan says, because there’s nothing else to say. 

“They’re idiots,” JT tells her. “They’ve been showing their ass the last few years and now they’ve gone and completely fucked it up.”

Dylan shrugs. “I should probably look at flights.”

“Dylan,” JT says, softly.

“Yeah?” Dylan sighs. It’s been a long day, and she’s starting to think about the packing she has to do. It sucks, and she wishes JT was there, with her. Or that Dylan was in Toronto. She wishes the stupid Yotes had traded her to the Leafs. 

“Want me to stay on the line with you?” JT asks.

“Yeah,” Dylan really does. 

\-----

It’s not easy, but it somehow just is. It’s late phone calls, and lots of texts. It’s JT zooming in for Christmas dinner at Brinksy’s and it’s agreeing to do Worlds together. It’s Dylan learning to make soup (that she decorates with kale, because JT has a brand and Dylan likes teasing) when her girlfriend can’t go to worlds and has to stay behind. It’s Dylan spending the entire summer at the Lake house. And a million other things that make it impossible to remember that this isn’t how it always was.

\-----

“How am I not your favorite?” Mitch pouts at JT, clutching her wine glass with both hands. “I got you so many goals, Johnny. All the goals.” 

Girls-only weekend is turning a bit into a tradition, not that Dylan minds, it’s kind of nice even. There’s six of them now, and no one has yet noticed Dylan hasn’t been designated a guest room. 

“My girlfriend is sitting right next to you,“ JT says, laughing, and apparently that’s how they’re telling their friends. Mitch immediately sits up.

“Babe,” Dylan says, but she bites down her lip, delighted. 

“Really?” Jo asks, smiling wide. “Congrats, lovebirds.” 

“Really,” JT says dryly, then gets up. “I’ll bring another bottle.”

She passes Dylan on her way to the kitchen, and then smoothly bends down and quickly kisses Dylan, mouth open and wet, and completely inappropriate. She smirks at the openly flustered look on Dylan’s face as she walks away to the sound of Mitch cooing and Tyler wolf-whistling. 

With whatever is left of her mind, Dylan makes the decision to stand up too. 

“I’m gonna, um,” she says too quickly, cheeks blushing. “I’m going to go help JT with the bottle.”

She can hear her friends laughing good naturally as she hurries to catch up with JT, and it’s all a little perfect.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Mentions of negative sexual experiences as teenagers (with full consent).


End file.
